


Cookies & Chaos

by TariTheNurse



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, Avenger Loki (Marvel), Avenger Reader (Marvel), Avenger Tower, Bag of mixed treats, F/M, Fluff, Gen, Halloween, Halloween Challenge, Magic, Necromancy, Panic Attacks, Pining, Quoted Lyrics, Regret, Scary
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-13
Updated: 2019-10-13
Packaged: 2020-12-14 16:22:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21018716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TariTheNurse/pseuds/TariTheNurse
Summary: It has become your mission to perfect the level of creepiness and coziness this Halloween for the other Avengers...one more than the rest. But have you gotten out of your depth this time?This was written for a Halloween challenge on tumblr by Devilbat <3





	Cookies & Chaos

Bustling around in the kitchen with the earplugs delivering your favourite tunes, it’s hard to keep the pessimism up. The scents of pumpkin cookies is starting to spread through the Tower’s shared kitchen as a sweet compensation for the creepy decorations Loki full-heartedly has adopted the use of – the entire holiday is perfectly suited for the god’s esthetic. _Perfect,_ the time of year and doubly so Asgardian. Loathe as you might be to admit it, a huge motivation for your efforts today are fueled by him and an irrational craving for his approval and…well why think of his love when it’s out of reach?

_*Woah!* _The next song starts with a cheer that makes your hips swing. Oh yeah, you feel good. Brushing with milk and lemon. _*Like sugar and spice*_ Sprinkles of cinnamon sugar. The “wizard hats” are ready to go into the oven with a promise of chocolate-oozing perfection.

You gather the dirty utensils, each item plonking into the sink on time with the beat as it fills with hot water. Soap bubbles dance on the surface, and you mimic them through the room to make sure nothing’s forgotten.

_*And when I hold you –*_ James Brown croons and you join, “- in my aaaarms, my love can’t do me no ha-arm –“ The dish brush is a perfect mic as you and Mister Brown have a private kitchen-party. “And I _feeeeeel_ ni-ice –“ You twirl joyfully.

You twirl joyfully straight into the hard chest of Loki.

_Shit!_ You were supposed to have kept quiet, the guy’d been called in last minute by Strange for something and you’d promised yourself to let him sleep in after getting back at 7AM. Glancing up at his face with the perfectly sharp cheekbones, you can see how annoyed he is.

Cool hands reach out and pluck the music from your ears. “I woke up to a ruckus, little mortal, and I thought to myself…’_Who_ is raising the dead when I’m trying to sleep?’”

Partially ashamed of having been singing out loud, but mostly pissed at his belittling comment on the quality, you ignore the voice in the back of the head which tells you to be meek. _God or not, don’t come and insult me on my singing._ Not that it is good, but it’s one of the things that brings you joy and makes you feel normal.

“Well, _I’m sorry_, bud!” You poke his chest with a bubbled finger (only then realizing the man is shirtless). “But _I_ happen to be enjoying some baking time while _singing_. There are no death rituals or ghouls or whatever _here_…just delicious treats.”

An eyebrow arches and his calculative gaze takes in you and the surroundings. _Oh damn._ A smirk, dangerous and tantalizing, forms to show those perfect teeth and you know you’ve gone much too far. If only you could go back, but it’s too late now.

“Is that so?” he purrs, “the sounds I heard could be the wails of the souls eternally trapped in damnation…however a real summoning ritual _would_ be much…much…different.”

With a snap of the fingers, the light leaves the room even though it’s the middle of the day and plunges the place into an unnatural darkness only broken by an acid-green glow from Loki’s hands. _What? Is he for real?? _A pattern appears on the floor as he motions with a sweep for you to stay still, and you do because you’re much too nervous to step on the glowing runes. Suddenly you recall how Thor once talked about Hela, the goddess of death, being their sister. _Tony’s gonna kill me._

“You mortals have always been ob_sessed_ with death. With what lies beyond life,” the god hisses into your ear, raising the hairs on your body, “You do not fathom the _true_ power of necromancy.” Deep-purple, translucent blobs are rising from the floor. “A few have been close to harness it but _we_, your gods, know the secrets.” Each blob is a skull that grins at you with empty eye sockets and clicking jaws and you _know_ Loki has lost his mind and gone back to his old ways again. “The living do not _control_ the dead…the dead _tolerates_ the mortals.”

Step by step, you back away from the menacing god and the skeletons reaching for you with the boney hands. Poisonous colours flicker like demonic fire meant to melt the flesh from your bones, the heat already too much. But Loki advanced. Tall. Powerful. _Dangerous._

“No…” It’s just a whimper leaving your lips. “Y-you can’t…you’re not a necro-“

“Necromancer? Perhaps not,” he grins menacingly, “but do not forget who my sister is or the purpose I had when I first came to this measly, little planet.”

There’s a gleam in his eyes you’ve never seen before in real life…but now it’s clear. _The footage from Stuttgard._ The madness is the same and it’s a craze that cannot be reasoned with, forcing you to turn to flee…right into Loki’s open arms. Thrashing in gut-freezing panic, your heart threatens to stop as his grip tightens around you and every thought in your mind is crushed with the exception of one: _I just wanted him to make him happy. _

Laughter withers, overgrown by soft murmurs – your name, apologies – and the embrace is no longer aggressively possessive but rather a gentle rocking interspersed by soothing strokes. Gone is the darkness along with the unnatural fire and the skeletons that had seemed to lust for your soul or…or…

“Shhh, my dove, shhh,” Loki kisses the words against the top of your head, “I am sorry. I did not mean to frighten you so, please forgive me.” He’s cradling you, sat on the floor with you in his lap. “I beg, do not cry…I love your smile and your voice…I love your wits and companionship…please forgive me.”

The words tremble, causing your to quiet down with surprise at the realization that you’ve never heard him sound so broken before. _This is not a trick._ No, Loki apparently does care deeply about your wellbeing, that he can see the error in his ways, and the normally sharp-tongued god is searching for a way to say that…

“With my life I will protect you and shield you from harm…I love you.”

_What?_ The world stops along with your heart and breathing. Too afraid to believe it’s true, you force yourself to find his gaze and be swept into the whirl of pain, fear, hope, truth. _Love._ Nose to nose, forehead to forehead, his sincerity permeates the air you breath and seeps into your lungs, diffuses into your body to change away every lingering grain from the living nightmare he’d conjured, leaving behind a warmth that stands in contrast to the cool chest you’re pressed against. Reaching for his jaw with a trembling hand, you act without thinking and kiss him. Slow at first and so light that lips barely meet, but then you feel the response shudder his body and the press deepens to allow Loki’s tongue taste the seem before delving past your lips. Tasting. Exploring.

Allowing himself to accept reality, the god effortlessly repositions you to straddle his legs stretched out on the floor and he allows you to set the pace, to push him into a lying position free for you to admire while your hands create ripples of goosebumps and your lips swallow the softest of sighs.

Loki’s eyes are closed when you glance away for the briefest moment. “Hold the thought.”

A quick maneuver, a few steps, and the oven’s clock beeps just as you grab the mitt to pull out the finished pastries to cool. _Oh!_ Cool hands skirt your waist, already skimming underneath the shirt.

“Do…am I forgiven?” Loki whispers in your ear and you can’t help but roll your eyes a bit because _isn’t it obvious?_

Letting him wait, you finish securing the kitchen from any mishaps in case you get distracted (while trying to stay as close to Loki as possible so he can feel your body against his). When you finally do turn to face him, his eyes are dark with need, but brows pinched with insecurity.

“You still need to prove just _how sorry_ you are, my love.”

Your words are absorbed slow enough to see the stages he passes through before he pulls you close and steels your breath away with his lips, tongue, hands, and…_oh god._


End file.
